The Reviled God of Cooking Tries to Slack Off - Chapter 123

Focusing on the customer’s feelings and such details—this was something Li Shuyan and the others had already heard Jiang Tingzhou emphasize back during the braised pork preliminary round: food is made for people to eat.

For the same classic dish, Ye Shunxin’s culinary skills were not much different from Jiang Tingzhou’s, but in the final vote, Jiang Tingzhou surpassed him by a wide margin—because his dishes made the customers feel more satisfied.

“No matter the price point of a restaurant, the key to success—whether it’s affordable, mid-range, or high-end—lies in one thing,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “But the focus for each type of restaurant is different.”

Affordable restaurants must meet a specific customer demand. Mid-range restaurants must build on that, identifying and tightly grasping those customer needs, forming scale, systems, and distinct features to gain an edge over competitors.

As for high-end restaurants, Jiang Tingzhou had dined at many successful ones across China. Surprisingly, not many of them put in as much effort into studying flavor as he did for Gongyan. Some high-end places that had operated for years didn’t taste as good as certain mid-range restaurants—yet their prices could be ten times higher, and reservations were still hard to get.

In such restaurants, the customer’s needs are no longer about the food. It’s the service, the ambiance, and the brand aura that matter. If you want to sell a dish at the price of a luxury item, then naturally, you have to adopt luxury branding methods.

Still, “customer feelings” are intangible and must eventually translate into concrete experience.

Li Shuyan looked around, deep in thought.

They were currently dining at Blazing Jianghu, the soon-to-open jianghu-cuisine restaurant. The interior design was refined, with many antique-style touches that matched the restaurant’s theme dishes. The kitchen used open flames and bright stoves.

The kitchen was semi-open, separated by large glass panels, allowing customers to see everything happening inside.

Of course, transparent kitchens weren’t unique. Similar styles had been used in restaurants to showcase cleanliness and reassure diners.

But Jiang Tingzhou’s choice had another purpose: jianghu-style stir-frying over high flames was highly theatrical.

The moment the fire roared and the wok was tossed, even just watching the process made people certain it would taste delicious.

But this was only a small part of Jiang Tingzhou’s preparations.

He had been frequently on-site, managing the chefs and decor, but also handling many other details. He personally oversaw the recruitment and training of waitstaff.

“Customer experience depends on countless little things. As for how the two restaurants will operate—just wait and see when they open,” Jiang Tingzhou said. “I can only offer a rough outline now. You’ll understand when you see it in action.”

He said this to reassure them, but on the eve of officially entering the restaurant business, Li Shuyan and the others were too nervous to sleep. They rushed to the site early in the morning to check on everything.

The first two restaurants opened by the sugar factory had simple names: Blazing Jianghu and Northern Hometown. On the bottom right of each signboard was the logo of Yongqing Sugar Factory.

Thanks to earlier promotions, both restaurants were packed on opening day.

The venues were spacious—since they owned the property, they didn’t hold back. Each had two floors, plus a yard and food stalls under umbrellas. 

Despite the bad weather, extra seats were added. One restaurant alone had nearly a hundred tables of various sizes.

Though the prices were inexpensive, these were still rare large-scale restaurants in the area.

They opened at 10:30 a.m. Firecrackers went off. Even though it wasn’t yet mealtime, the restaurant was already full. People with number tickets waited outside for seats.

For an ordinary boss, such a scene would call for popping champagne in celebration—but for Jiang Tingzhou, this was just the beginning.

As with the mall store, many food bloggers came to visit. Some were invited by Jiang Tingzhou, and others had been invited by third parties.

Unlike before, where Jiang Tingzhou had invited bloggers only for honest reviews, this time President Zhong had paid for two or three major influencers with massive followings. They began livestreaming early, even buying traffic to boost viewership.

One blogger had 3 million followers, and his stream quickly ranked in the platform’s top 10, attracting waves of curious viewers.

But these bloggers came with an agenda.

President Zhong had suffered a big loss and wanted them to nitpick—find a flaw, blow it out of proportion, and call Jiang Tingzhou’s restaurant a disaster. Bad reviews were easy to sell. After all, when everyone is in the mud, who can stay clean?

The online audience couldn’t taste the food anyway. These bloggers just needed to find one fault and hype it up.

Sure enough, the blogger known as Brother Dong, who had millions of fans, began shaking his head before even tasting anything.

“Look, it’s too crowded and noisy. The atmosphere isn’t good. It’s just too loud,” he complained.

He was seated near the kitchen. The camera showed the semi-transparent kitchen—chefs prepping, waiters bustling past. Of course it was noisy.

But just as he finished speaking, before the chat could react, a waiter came over.

“Here’s the menu. You can also order by scanning the code at the table,” the waiter said, placing hot water and other items. “Sorry—it’s the grand opening, and the crowd is inevitable. This spot is a bit noisy. Let me offer you a pot of sour plum soup and two appetizers. Thank you for your patience.”

The appetizers were spicy lotus root slices and plum-pickled cherry tomatoes.

Brother Dong snorted. That’s it? Trying to win me over with this? Who hasn’t had sour plum soup and lotus root slices?

Still, for the sake of the livestream, he had to try them. He poured himself a cup of plum soup.

Plum soup is common these days. Many restaurants just mix powder with water. But this tasted different.

The soup was pale in color but clearly brewed from scratch. You could see real ingredients settled at the bottom: black plum, hawthorn, roselle, licorice, tangerine peel, mulberry, with a hint of osmanthus and mint. Sweetened with rock sugar and chilled, the flavor was complex and layered.

One sip brought a refreshing tartness and mellow sweetness.

He had eaten before the stream to dull his appetite, but this soup awakened it.

He quickly drank half a cup, then forced himself to stop. He reached for the appetizers.

Cherry tomatoes and lotus roots are ordinary. But these were different.

The tomatoes were peeled and pickled with white plums, making them tangy, sweet, and fresh. The lotus root slices were perfectly crisp, cut to the right thickness, and coated with a well-balanced chili dressing.

These two appetizers paired with the plum soup were incredibly appetizing.

Any normal diner would realize immediately—if even the side dishes are made like this, the main dishes won’t be bad.

Under normal circumstances, he’d already be praising the food, flaunting his influencer status, and asking for more—especially the lotus root, which would be amazing with alcohol.

But today was different.

“It’s just average, a bit unpleasant,” Brother Dong forced out, trying to stay on script. “The plum soup, the tomatoes, the lotus root… they’re all cold. Eating cold food in winter? It hurts my teeth. I really don’t like it.”

He ate a few lotus root slices, then put his chopsticks down.

But the chat wasn’t having it.

【“Didn’t you say it was hot earlier and took off your jacket? Now you’re cold?”】

【“The pickled tomatoes are sold at the Sugar Factory bakery! I’ve had them—they’re delicious.”】

【“If you don’t like it, why are you staring at it so hard?” 】

Embarrassed, Brother Dong coughed and said, “I wasn’t looking at the food. I was checking the time on my phone. Been waiting forever for the food.”

The chat replied:

【“It’s only been a few minutes…”】

Just then, food began streaming out of the kitchen.

Even though the camera wasn’t centered, you could see the action in the semi-open kitchen.

Chefs worked fast but methodically. Flames roared from the stove—just like during the chef competition. Amid the fire, the chef wielded the wok with expert control, plating dishes one after another.

This was Jianghu cuisine—and the performance matched the name.

The staff was equally efficient. Kitchen hands placed dishes on the pass and rang the bell; servers grabbed them and delivered within seconds.

“Crispy kidneys—ready in nine seconds!” the waiter called out.

The dish was steaming hot, even bubbling slightly.

The camera didn’t dare zoom in—everyone could see just how appetizing it looked.

Kidneys are notoriously tricky to prepare, and this dish was clearly designed to test the restaurant’s skill.

But the result? Impeccable.

Perfectly sliced, crisp on the outside, tender inside, coated in a rich, spicy Jianghu-style sauce.

Even the next dish—stir-fried pork liver—was surprisingly tender and without the usual odor.

Brother Dong didn’t even like pork liver. He picked it for the sake of giving a bad review. But after one bite, he froze.

Was this pork liver? Why was it so different from the kind he ate at home?

For a moment, he wanted to keep eating—but then he remembered: he was on camera.

Wait. This is a live broadcast!

He’d been paid—paid a lot. He had to fake it.

“Honestly, fans… I really don’t like it,” he said, forcing down his emotions. “It’s salty and spicy. Don’t be fooled by the fancy presentation—it’s just overhyped. Not worth the line.”

He used every ounce of acting skill he had. Meanwhile, paid commenters began flooding the chat with scripted messages like:

【“Looks terrible.”】

【“Totally inedible.”】

But real viewers weren’t fooled.

【“What an act.”】

【“If it’s so bad, why are you staring at it like you’re in love?”】

【“Just say you want to eat it but can’t.”】

Even the cameraman couldn’t help himself. He quietly slid the plate of lotus root behind the camera and dug in—draining his plum soup and nearly finishing the plate.